say yes
by theSincerities
Summary: AU. "Think of me as your savior," he once whispered into her ear. — Reds.


10 August 2012

say yes  
: _theSincerities  
_

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. . .

"_Think of me as your savior_," he once whispered into her ear. "When you're with me, Red, you don't have priorities; you don't have anyone to watch over; you're not a leader and you're not a hero; your entire character is reduced to one thing: _Mine_." He began to tighten his ribbon of words by taking either side of her head into his hands, leaving her no choice but to face him fully. "_What d' ya say_?"

She remembers the unfathomable resonance in their heartbeats—not hers, _theirs_—and the particular flutter streaming through her veins. He was patient, she noted breathlessly, because clearly, despite the infiniteness she felt safeguarding them, he never once tore his eyes from hers; they waited for her answer, and they would continue to wait as needed.

"… or are you afraid?" she found him asking, hands surrendering back onto his knees.

She stared listlessly at the lace of moonbeams glowering against them, and then the hardwood paneling they sat over childishly, her on her knees, Brick crisscrossed. She found herself shaking her head thoughtfully.

"I'm not afraid of you ...," she said, mostly to herself.

"_I know that_," he replied almost instantly, rolling his eyes. "Don't lie to yourself, though, Red; you _know _what I mean."

She took this moment to look at him in the eyes, almost as though to examine him through them. To his surprise, her ambiguously kept composure gave way to an impulsive sigh, a relaxation of her shoulders, a millisecond-glance behind her toward her closed door, and a flood of sputtered thoughts when her gaze returned to the grooves of the paneling beneath them.

"_I don't know_," she began, clearly exasperated with herself. "I'm … I—_you know I can't just run away with you_, Brick."

He chuckled. "But you _want _to, or else I doubt you'd be thinking over it so hard."

"I _don't_ want to," she seethed, now looking at him again. "But—_but_…"

"—_but if it means being with me_, you know you kind of_ really _do," he finished, carelessly lowering his eyes with a knowing grin.

She shot him a warning glance but couldn't help smiling, defeated. Her finger traced an inexistent pattern against the coolness of the wood, and stopped when her hand found itself captured in both of Brick's. He fiddled with her fingers, admiring their length and structure.

"It'd make me happy," he said amidst of his focus, never once breaking it from Blossom's hand. He felt her attention stir, so he began again, this time with a full thought. "It'd make me happy," he repeated, pausing briefly to stare into the pale rosé quartz of her bright eyes, "if you said yes."

Blossom normally would have flattened her expression at the feigned, believable innocence he projected at her through his eyes; though, this time she found herself struggling to keep herself breathing in proper metronome. This time, the look was different; and if she dared say so herself, it may have been because the innocence was _not_ feigned—_her senses said so._

"But … _but where would we go_? What would happen? _What about the Professor, and Bubbles, and Buttercup and_—."

"The point of the matter, Bloss, is for you to be by my side; everything else, you leave to me. We're two brilliant minds, aren't we? We'll figure something out." His smile, if possible, increased in smugness. "We're graduating in one week; after that, you're free to do what you'd like, right?"

She struggled to find a proper reply; instead, he pressed on for her.

"I mean, it thrills you, doesn't it?—_the idea of running away far off past Townsville_—and more importantly, with _me_. It'll be just the two of us, Bloss." He smirked at her toothily, watching her eyes glimmer considerately. _Just a little more_ … "The chapters we've lived in since Pokey Oaks, all those times we've managed to find to ourselves, all these evenings I've spent coming up to visit you during our years of high school; Bloss, _we're graduating in a week_—then what?"

Blossom, in front of him, although physically unfazed, was listening eagerly; he knew she was processing a conclusion.

"If it makes you feel any better, nobody has to know," he breathed. "No one ever did and we can keep it that way."

Infinity took its partner, Silence, and began to waltz around them as Blossom allowed Brick's words to single and melt into her. For a moment's time she didn't blink—only bore her tantalizing eyes into an ethereal nothing only she could see. Her lips quirked and she finally chose her response.

"Suppose something was to happen," she said gingerly, now taking her turn at fondling with his masculine and shapely hands; her eyes stabbed up at his, curiously. "What's your response to _that_?"

"Something and anything, you mean?" His expression grew unmoved as he switching roles, leaving her to stare at him endlessly, watching him transition his stare elsewhere. "… if that were the case, I willingly give you permission to never speak to me again, and vice versa."

"Exactly."

Everything stopped to listen.

"_I'm not willing to_—to _risk _that," she first said then finished with a whisper. "—because, regardless of risk always being around anyway, I guess I'm saying that ... that ..."

"—it's not in you to move in with someone you don't have a distinct label or 'bond' with."

She nodded.

"You know there's no guarantee of knowing what will happen, right?" Another nod. "—and you know everything eventually comes to a close, right?" Again. "I won't sit here and tell you not to doubt me, and I won't tell you everything will be okay, because even if it will, we don't know that."

Brick smirked and raised a hand to give her nose a quick pinch.

"_Suppose I asked you to marry me_ …," he grinned. "Would you say yes to _that_?"

Blossom swore her heart gave way for a full gathering of seconds. "I—_are you_—."

"I said, _suppose_." His voice mingled in her ear tauntingly.

Blossom let out a shaken breath, eyes now wide with overwhelming uncertainty.

"Forget we're barely graduating in one-week's time," he said, helping her through her struggled decision. "_Picture your life like a dream_; would you say—."

"_—yes_," she murmured, and for a skipped heartbeat, both she and Brick felt their breaths tug and stall, together. Suddenly the mere touch of their hands tickled the nerve endings stilled against the flow of heating blood, and the bare sight of the other before them eliminated their weight more than when they pulsed through the sky's heavens.

Neither chose to move, afraid of shattering the crystallized purity suddenly glittering around them.

Brick finally noted that his mouth remained open, caught with his words, so he pursed his lips before relocating his voice.

"What d' ya say, then, Bloss?" he said softly, a definitive smile creeping within his words. "_I'll even get you a ring_."

She felt his hand tighten around hers, and suddenly her breath crept back into her with a repulsive surge through what seemed to be her every vein and artery, and out through her in searing, scalding, tears welling behind her eyes.

Brick's already-braced torso captured her, his arms encasing her and holding her close as he fought to remain seated. She didn't dare look up at him_—_not while she had no current authority over herself, her reactions, and her tears_; _so she did the next best thing and pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt, clearly wrinkling and soiling it as she exhaled.

"_We'll give the ceremony a few years_," he whispered at her, nose breathing in the intoxicating aroma of her perfume. "_It'll be our little secret_."

That twilight evening, Blossom found no need to picture a dream when, instead, it had already chosen to picture her.

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note: There you have it—Yvette's entry for Marisa Lee's monthly PPG writing contest. August's prompt was — _DREAM_.

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**Disclaimer**: Credit for _The Powerpuff Girls _belongs to Craig McCracken.


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